


Weakness

by SharkGirl



Series: EmiMike Week 2017 [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Budding Love, Day 3, EmiMike, Established Relationship, Horseback Riding, M/M, MichEmil, Nobility, Noble!Michele, Opposites Attract, Running Away, Stable Boy!Emil, emimikeweek2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-01 23:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10203605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkGirl/pseuds/SharkGirl
Summary: Michele sighed and turned back toward the house, his horse trotting along the path.  If only it could be that easy.Written for EmiMike Week 2017Day 3:  Opposites Attract





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's Day 3 already, how exciting!!   
> I had no idea what to write for this day (I had this whole fire and ice theme that never took off, haha) but, thankfully, indevan was there to give me a bunch of different "opposite" themes and I went with this!  
> I just wish I could have been able to think of a good title, haha XD
> 
> Thank you, Nerily, for being my beta once again! Your input is always so helpful ♥  
> Please enjoy!

“Ridiculous!” Michele muttered under his breath, tightening his grip on the reins and swinging his legs to get his horse to pick up speed. “Absolutely absurd,” he cursed and ducked his head to avoid a low-hanging tree branch.  He’d been riding for over an hour, maybe more, he’d lost track, his father’s words echoing in his head, _‘As the eldest and a man, you will inherit this house, our business, and our land,_ ’ he’d said, _‘Sara is not so lucky.’_

Lucky, indeed!  His father was referring, of course, to what he’d been hinting at for weeks, that Sara would soon be leaving the Crispino household, sold into the care of a noble two provinces over.  When Michele had heard about it, he’d become enraged.  Furious!  The very idea of his precious baby sister being married off to some slimy, pompous landowner made his skin crawl.

After their first discussion, his father had wisely avoided the subject and Michele had thought his sister’s wedding long off.  But when his father announced the man’s proposal that night at supper, Michele had shot up, knocked over his chair, cursed his father up and down, and fled from the dining room.

He’d gone straight to the stable, tacked up his horse, and went out for a long ride through their sprawling estate.  It was so he could calm down.  The damage had been done, but he could avoid murder in cold blood if he went for a ride first.  Then again, he wasn’t sure exactly who his sister’s suitor was, nor where he lived, so he _couldn’t_ kill him.  Yet.  And so, a ride it was.

He pulled back on the reins and his horse slowed to a trot.  They were just coming to the pond near the edge of their property.  It was summer now, but in the winter, when the water froze over, he and Sara would skate.  It was one of their favorite things to do together.  And the thought that soon she would be gone, miles away, and unable to share in their seasonal tradition made his stomach churn.

There had to be something he could do.  Some way to stop this from happening.  Maybe he and Sara could run away.  He had a decent understanding of the law – thanks to his father’s constant reminders – so perhaps he could take up with that?  Surely a solicitor’s salary would be enough for the two of them to live comfortably.

Michele sighed and turned back toward the house, his horse trotting along the path.  If only it could be that easy.  He shook his head.  It was getting late.

By the time he’d reached the stable, it was dark.  The lamps were lit inside, making the windows and the space around the wooden door glow a soft golden color.  It looked welcoming.  But Michele hesitated.  He knew who’d lit those lamps and he wasn’t sure if he wanted the other to see him like this.  Not again.

Weeks earlier, when he’d first learned of Sara’s potential proposal, he’d been a wreck and, just like this time, he’d run to get his horse.  But it wasn’t a ride that soothed his temper that evening.  No, he’d found solace and comfort in the arms of their stable boy.

“A moment of weakness,” he mumbled, shaking his head.  They hadn’t spoken of  it since and, even when he ran into Emil, the other just smiled brightly like he always had, ever since he’d come to work for the Crispinos two years earlier.  He was a good man, kind and gentle, but that was the last thing Michele should have been focusing on at the moment.

He approached the stone building, ready to dismount, stable his horse, and somehow slip back into his room unnoticed by his family or any of the staff, but apparently luck was not with him that night.  No sooner had he reached the soft sand near its foundation, did the door to the building swing open, flooding the path with golden light and revealing the very man he’d been trying to avoid.

“Mick-” Emil began, but corrected himself. “Young Master Crispino,” he greeted, setting down the buckets he was carrying before walking over. “I was wondering where Vittore had gone to,” he joked, placing a hand under the horse’s muzzle and stroking down his snout.

“I fancied a ride,” Michele said curtly, purposely avoiding the other’s gaze.

“I see.” He saw Emil nod in his peripheral. “Shall I put Vittore away for you?”

He finally turned to face the other man.  Emil’s facial hair had grown a bit more and he now had a short beard along his jawline.  His hair was always unkempt and this time it had stray bits of hay sticking out of it.  Michele bit back a smile, clearing his throat.

“Yes,” he answered, thrusting the reins toward the other man.  Emil took them, but as he did, the tips of his warm, calloused fingers brushed over Michele’s hand, causing his skin to break out in gooseflesh.

“It’s starting to get chilly at night,” Emil mused.

“Indeed,” Michele replied, dismounting and walking on the horse’s other side.

“Would you like to come in?” Emil offered. “The cook brought me over some supper. It’s still hot.”  As if on cue, Michele’s stomach rumbled loudly.  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Emil snorted.

Michele’s cheeks burned, but he nodded.  He hadn’t eaten, after all.  His father had made the announcement before the meal had been served.

“Excellent.” Emil beamed. “I’ll just put Vittore in his stall,” he said, leading the horse. “Have a seat.”

Michele did as he was told.  There was a small table in the corner with a stool beside it.  On the table was a cloth-covered plate.  The smell of the food made Michele’s mouth water, but he frowned.  There was one seat and one plate.  He couldn’t take Emil’s supper, not when he was the one responsible for missing his own.

“You rode him hard tonight,” the other man’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “I’ll be sure to bathe him first thing in the morning.”

“Thank you, Emil.” Michele chewed on his bottom lip, glancing back at the place setting. “I appreciate your offer,” he began, turning to face Emil, “but I should really be going.” He made to leave, but stopped when the other man grabbed his wrist.

“Mickey, wait!” he called and then immediately released him when Michele looked back, his gaze dropping to the other’s hand. “Pardon my boldness.”  Michele opened his mouth to retort, though, honestly, he didn’t know what to say.  Emil’s hands had touched more than his wrist before and the sudden contact sent memories of that night flashing through his mind.  Happy little reminders.

“Emil-”

“I heard about Miss Sara’s engagement.”

Michele froze, his breath catching.  He drew his brows down. “She’s not engaged,” he ground out, voice low. “It was merely a proposal.”

“My apologies.” Emil bowed. “The cook said-” he began and then shook his head. “I was misinformed.”

“Yes, well,” Michele crossed his arms, ignoring how the shame on the other’s face made his chest tighten. “It was a simple mistake.” A heavy silence fell over them and Michele wanted nothing more than to leave.  But something inside of him was keeping him there, begging him to stay.  And he didn’t like it.

“I’m glad to hear she hasn’t accepted,” Emil spoke up. “If you don’t mind me saying.”

“I do not,” Michele responded, unfolding his arms and letting them fall to his sides.  It was true.  He agreed with Emil.  As long as Sara didn’t accept then-

“But surely this will not be the last she’ll receive,” Emil went on. “Miss Sara is a lovely young lady. One who will never be without suitors.”

“You overstep, Emil,” Michele growled, cutting him off. “Sara will not be propositioned again,” he went on. “I have a plan.”

“Mickey, regardless of your personal feelings on the matter, Sara will get married someday and you cannot-”

“Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do?!” he roared, advancing on the taller man. “There isn’t a man on God’s green earth who can love Sara the way I do.”

“Mickey-”

“You know nothing of this, Emil!” he continued, heat building behind his eyes. “I will take care of her. She will want for nothing. She will-”

“She will leave, Mickey.” Emil surprised him by reaching up and cupping his cheek. “Would you doom her to a life as an old maid?”  Michele opened his mouth, but then closed it, his lower lip quivering.  “Miss Sara may very well respond to this man. And if she is happy, will you still wish ill upon their marriage?”

He had no response to that.

“You cannot protect her forever,” Emil said, brushing away a stray tear that had escaped down Michele’s cheek. “But just because she marries, that does not mean she will love you any less.”

“Emil…” Michele turned his head, burying his face in the other’s palm. “I don’t know what to do,” he sobbed, reaching forward and balling a fist in the front of Emil’s shirt.

Emil pulled him closer, cradling the back of his head. “You don’t have to do anything,” he whispered against his temple, his warm breath stirring the short hairs above his ear. “Let me take care of you.”

Michele drew back, staring up into those impossibly blue eyes, and nodded.  He moaned softly as Emil pressed their lips together, his fingers tightening their hold on the other’s shirt.

 

Sometime later, Michele awoke to something sharp and dry poking into his skin.  He opened his eyes and saw nothing but hay surrounding him.  He pushed back and bumped into a warm body.

“Mickey?” Emil turned onto his side and wrapped him in his arms. “Are you cold?”

“No,” he replied, staring at the other’s chest and refusing to meet his eyes. His gaze flicked over to the table in the corner and the meal atop it which had gone uneaten. Guilt washed over him. “Emil-”

“I’m sorry.”

Michele blinked in confusion, finally pulling back far enough to study the other’s face.  Emil looked sad, almost ashamed. “For what?”

“For taking advantage of you again,” Emil sighed, combing a hand through Michele’s hair and plucking out a piece of dried grass. “Your crying face is my one weakness,” he chuckled sadly.

“Surely you jest.” Michele tugged on the other’s beard. “It was I who took advantage of you,” he said. “I let you comfort me and then pretended like it didn’t happen.”

“And this time?” Emil asked, gripping Michele’s chin and tilting it up. “Will you pretend this time, as well?”

“Emil…”

“I know I ask too much.” He swallowed, releasing him. “You have more important things on your mind.”

Michele furrowed his brow and then remembered.  Sara.  Of course, how could he have forgotten even for an instant?  He needed to get her to refuse the proposal and then… And then…?  He didn’t know.

“You spoke of Sara’s future,” Emil began, treading carefully. “But what of yours?”

“Mine?” Michele asked.

“Once your father ensures your sister’s financial stability, he will set his sights on you.” He took a deep breath. “The Crispino household will need an heir.”

Ice water seemed to flow through Michele’s veins, accompanied by something much colder gripping at his heart. “An heir?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll…” Michele licked his lips, his mind racing. “I’ll run away.”

“Is that your answer for everything?” Emil asked, no longer sounding like his jovial self. “You cannot run away from your responsibilities. You have no one to replace you.”

“Stop speaking as if you know everything!” Michele cried, pressing his hands against Emil and shoving him away. “I’ll just-”

“Run away from a happy home?  A loving family?” Emil asked. “There isn’t a province in all of Italy where your father will not find you,” he said, sitting up. “Will you flee your beloved country? Travel with unsavory companions? Work any job in order to eat that night?”

“Emil-”

“Finally find a place to call home, but struggle for everything every day because of your useless pride?” He finally finished, his breathing nearly ragged.  Then Emil shook his head. “Forgive me, Mickey…”

“Emil.” Michele crawled over to him, taking the other’s face in his hands. “Why do you speak as though you know these things?”

After a pause, Emil raised his head, his eyes filled with an untold sadness. “Because,” he drew in a shaky breath. “You’re not the only one running away.”

**Author's Note:**

> Uh-oh! What are _you_ running from, Emil?  
>  I'll leave it up to your imaginations ^^
> 
> Let me know what you think and hit me up on tumblr [@jubesy](http://jubesy.tumblr.com)!  
> Also, check out the event blog [@emimikeweek](http://emimikeweek.com)~


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